the room behind the organ. The priest was already there, and a couple of nuns, to whose care we resigned her. No, no, I shall never hear true feeling in that part again!" Here the little man ceased, and swallowed rapidly two glasses of wine.

"But, Herr Rechnungsrath," said I, "what became of her?"

"Mein Herr," said he, "there was a mystery there. When we finished our performance, we found no one in the room back of the organ, nor has any one of us ever heard a single syllable in relation to her."

Music and Musical Taste in Havana.

LETTER FROM SIGNOR TAGLIAFICO TO A FRENCH FRIEND IN CUBA.

(Translated for the Philadelphia Evening Bulletin from the Courrier des Etats-Unis). [Concluded.]

"But," say you, "the great Marty company." When you say these words you produce in me all the effect of those old grumblers of the first Empire, who, when reading the reports from the Crimea, never failed to exclaim, "Ah, the Old Guard! Where is the grand army?" The artists of this great company have been our friends and comrades of the theatre, at London or St. Petersburg, before they dreamed of coming to Havana, where, it is true, they had their greatest success, but where also they terminated their career, with one exception, and (between ourselves), without getting rich, for their wardrobes, left in pledge in your hands, alone saved them from the Moro Castle, the Clichy of the Antilles.

"Ils ne chantent plus," as Marcel says in the Huguenots, and the exception I have made proves the rule in the Tacon Theatre. In fact, I have read all the papers of the time, and I have found that Mme. Bosio was daily accused of sparing her voice, of singing carelessly, of being cold, in a word, of not working as hard as her associates. Mme. Bosio is now the first cantatrice of Europe. She is, said lately one of your friends, the only one of the "great company" who understood the Tacon Theatre-the theatre still

full of their voices. That does not surprise me, I answered; they left their voices here! I would next speak to you of the press and the public, (this is hard for me, who owe them nothing but praise); of the public, whose judgment is always sovereign, if not infallible; of the press, whose duty it is first to express the impressions of the public, and then (and it is its most important mission) to enlighten it, to guide it, to instruct it, to teach it, to regulate its sympathies, so that Art may not fall into the hands of parties that cannot fail to arise in a country like yours, far removed from the great centres of light, progress, and civilization. I have certainly read all that has been written in the journals upon the Italian Opera, during the season, and I candidly declare there are not two lines from which an artist could derive benefit, or which could in the least degree assist the public in forming their opinion.

One paper, in the beginning, with a very slightly disguised opposition to Maretzek's undertaking, hazarded some technical musical words, confounding style with method, blaming one artist for altering, and another for transposing his airs, without troubling itself about

the voices, the proprieties, nor even the traditions of the great operas of Europe. This, happily, did not last long; the critic soon found himself at the end of his vocabulary, and then began what we call the "proof before letters," the criticism before performance. Here is a specimen: "On such a day, such an opera will be given. Why does such an artist sing in it, and why not another? We should like to know, Mr. Manager, how many rehearsals you are going to have. Ah, ah, eight years ago we heard the same opera given by the great company. Take care, caramba! for we shall be there, we, the Cids of criticism, the Don Quixotes of the Feuilleton !"

the doves-that emblem of peace ever since the flood-carrying in their claws the symbols of discord, the colors of the parties; and finally the sonnets, the caricatures, the journals, the papers, large and small, rough or satined, of every form, of every color-this was the ordinary ceremony.

But on the great days, the benefits, the ancient Saturnalia were revived in all their splendor. After having exhibited the goddess in a glory, surrounded by little loves, in a blaze of Bengal lights, amid a shower of scraps of gold paper, the adepts conducted her to her chariot, and the march of the ox Apis began. Nothing was wanting, neither the yelling of the crowd, nor the torches waving in the dark night, nor the boys hanging to the trees, the windows, everywhere, and crying, "Long live the Goddess! Death to her rival!" At last and above all, the inexpressible zizi-boumboum of two military bands, playing two different airs at the same time, (what airs! what music!) accompanied and completed this tropical masquerade.

"What!" they will exclaim in Europe, "all that for a scale well done, a note finely well, voice, singing, talent had nothing to do given, or a trill skillfully executed?" Well, with this matter. People had first to amuse themselves, to belong to a party, to pretend to be connoisseurs, and as, at the end of the account, the result was no small amount of golden ounces and Spanish quadruples, for the manager and the artists, everybody found the fun charming.

But of rational appreciation there is none; of analysis of the good points of this artist or the defects of that one, none. No, I am mistaken. A certain Sergeant of my acquaintance was blamed for having, in L'Elisir d'Amore, kicked away a piece of bread which annoyed him on the stage, without regard for the public! But this poor Sergeant had tight pantaloons, and an accident might happen to him so easily. To go higher: Ronconi was amount of the criticism on this artist? In to be the star of the season. What is the Maria di Rohan, they have proved as clear as day that it is always imprudent for husbands to look through key-holes; also that in seizing a woman by the hair, there is danger of pulling off her head-dress. We have read all these things! In L'Elisir d'Amore he has been advised not to embrace the Notary, as he does when he has to say "T"abbraccio, e ti saluto, uficial d'amor." These are observations full of delicacy and propriety, when they relate to two of the grandest creations of that great artist, called Ronconi. Poor Ronconi! has he not been advised by a journalI will spare it the shame of naming it-to engage himself in the comic troupe, to take the place of Ruiz, the clown and buffoon of the place? O glory! That the greatest dramatic genius of the time, the actor whose name is inscribed by London critics next after Mendelssohn's Symphony-Cantata: that of Rachel on the list of celebrities of the stage, should come to Havana, to be disposed of in this way! Habent sua fata,

histriones!

I have told you that, under such circumstances, parties are inevitable, especially with an ignorant and foolish public. So we have had them this season here, where, instead of a public-“l'illustrado publico," as the bills say—we have had two parties; where instead of an Italian troupe, we have had two prima donnas eclipsing all the rest; vehement, fanatical, insane parties, and prima donnas, much amazed, I am sure, at the excess of honor or of indignity offered them. One evening I asked one of these rude partisans the cause of this inexplicable worship of an idol who was certainly far from reckoning perfection among her divine attributes. He answered me, "I love Gog, because I hate Magog." "And you hate Magog? "Because I love Gog! I asked no more.

What idolatries have we not witnessed? You recollect, my dear V., the temple ringing with frantic hurrahs, the seats shaking under the blows of the knights of the chandelier (the claqueurs) the bouquets strewing the stage (they were swept away at each fall of the curtain to serve for further triumphs in succeeding acts); the crowns of artificial flowers, of gold or tinsel acorns, with which the goddess had to cover her heated brow;

But pour l'amour de Dieu! my dear V., ask me no more what I think of your Italian Opera. Come and see Ronconi and me in London, next summer. We will show you the Royal Italian Opera; and you shall see for yourself, as we used to say at college, quod erat demonstrandum. Bring us some cigars! Yours,

D. TAGLIAFICO.

ANALYSIS

ОР

"A HYMN OF PRAISE."

(Concluded from last week.)

The resumption of the Scherzo presents, not, as is most frequently the custom, an entire repetition Da Capo of this portion of the movement, but only a recapitulation of its principal ideas, and these much and different opposition to each other. modified in their effect by their varied arrangement

It must, surely, have been the purpose to represent in this movement the influence of passion opposed by the promptings of religion,-the secret voice of conscience urging, almost imperceptibly, the often-repeated summons which is the chief theme of the entire work,-the earthly feelings contending to resist its admonition, but these, soothed by the benign effect of devotion, gently sink into the sleep of unconscious

for the purpose of identifying it at its recurrence in another situation, and of justifying thus my speculation as to the expression of the whole passage. The chief melody is resumed with a varied and very novel orchestral treatment, and it is now prolonged into a Coda, the exquisite beauty of which is consonant with the character of the entire movement, impressing us with a sense of peace around, and content within, and devotion to the source from whence all comfort springs.

II. THE VOCAL PORTION.

(4). Chorus.-All men,all things, all that have life and breath, sing to the Lord. Hallelujah!

We now enter upon the vocal portion of the composition, which is connected with the equally important series of instrumental movements that introduce it, not only by the unity of feeling that pervades the whole, but by the further development in the course

of it of some of the ideas that have been announced

in the preludial portion of the work. This opening Chorus is incomplete in itself, commencing as it does in the key of the previous Adagio, from which, by a gradual course of modulation, it proceeds into that in which the work begins and concludes, in which the voices enter with a magnificent peal of harmony that seems to be the song of all nature united in one common acclamation. The figure that accompanies the Episode in the preceding Adagio is resumed at the commencement of this movement, and continues with prominent effect through the sustained harmony of the voices, and the expression of that passage is thus, I suppose, connected with the present idea. Presently all motion ceases, and the voices, quite unaccompanied, break forth into the theme with which the work opens, which has been anticipated in fragmentary responses by the most powerful instruments throughout the course of modulations that connects the Chorus with the Adagio, and of which the words now define the meaning, with an effect of imposing grandeur that music cannot surpass.

(5). Praise the Lord with lute and harp, in jovful song exto Him, and let all flesh magnify His might and His glory.

This Chorus is continuous of the preceding, but I distinguish it for the sake of better drawing attention to the new character that is here assumed, and of describing the technical structure of the present movement. This embodies a multitudinous joy, to the expression of which its fugal element greatly contributes; for this element, however dependent upon scholarship for its successful manifestation, and however, on this account, frequently employed as a mere display of technical facility, is in itself essentially dramatic, and embodies the idea of multitudinous excitement more efficiently than almost any other principle of musical development; in exemplification of which, I need but cite the derisive Chorus, "He trusted in God," in the Messiah, and several of the most effective choruses in Israel in Egypt. The form of passage with which the movement opens, and which accompanies the chief Subject throughout, was, obviously, suggested to the composer by the first phrase of the text, who reflects this suggestion upon the audience through the brilliancy of effect and gladness of spirit that is thus especially imparted to the whole movement.

I have spoken of the fugal element (namely, of the successive entry of the several parts with the same subject, and of the continual elaboration of this in their constant responses), as conspicuous in the composition of this movement, which is not, however, a strict fugue fulfilling all the exactions of scholastic canon; but if on this account less erudite, it is none the less effective. The principal Subject :

Praise the Lord with lute and harp,in joyful song extol Him! is developed at considerable length, and then relieved by the introduction of a second Subject:

And let all flesh magnify His might and His glory!

tion.

(8). Duet and Chorus.-I waited for the Lord. He inclined unto me, He heard my complaint; O blessed are they that hope and trust in the Lord.

Praise thou the Lord,

&c.)

Let me not dilate by attempting to describe the charm of this exquisite piece. The lovely melody of the opening Solo is, after the short choral refrain, repeated by the second voice against a counter-melody of the first voice, that is twined about it with as much grace as ingenuity; after a repetition of the choral refrain, which is, according to the constant practice of Mendelssohn, enhanced in its effect by a striking variation of the harmony, the principal melody is assigned to the male voices of the chorus, and, with this rich, sonorous tone, it forms a groundwork upon which is constructed another series of counterphrases for the two solo voices; in the Coda, a different combination is made of the solo voices with the chorus, and the final cadence is formed with singular beauty by the entry of the male voices of the chorus with the first phrase of the melody, which has been successively anticipated, in another part of the scale, by each of the solo voices.

(9). Air.—The sorrows of death had closed all around me,and hell's dark terrors had got hold upon me, with trouble and deep heaviness: but saith the Lord, "Come, arise from the

dead, and awake thou that sleepest, I bring thee salvation."

The restless perturbations of a heart torn by affliction are strikingly embodied in the wild agitation of this impassioned Air; and the hopeful fervor of the second theme expresses the expectant faith in the Divine promise.

(10). Recitative.-We called through the darkness, "Watchman, will the night soon pass?" The watchman only said, "Though the morning will come, the night will come also." Ask ye, inquire ve, if ye will, inquire ve, return again, ask, "Watchman, will the night soon pass?"

The wonderfully dramatic setting of this short, very important text, is one of the most remarkable instances the art presents of its power to enforce the significancy of verbal expression, giving to this an intensity and a depth wholly beyond the scope of spoken language.

The thrilling phrase for the orchestra, rendered especially poignant by the peculiar instrumental combination employed to give it effect, represents a keen sense of anguish, the agony of which seems to wring the words of the enquiry from a spirit so broken as to be incapable of hope in a reply:

Watchman, will the night soon pass?

The repetition of this passage makes us feel still more intensely the longing for relief-the despair of its attainment so livingly embodied. The four words of description are very felicitously distinguished from the context in the setting; and the troublous anxiety of the Watchman's answer eminently realizes the different emotion of one who witnesses but may not solace another's woe, from that of one stricken with

Sing ye praise,

The melodious smoothness and the expressive sadness of the Air make their own comment; and the same remark applies to the Chorus, which, in an entirely different train of ideas, but with completely the same expression, is a further development of the sentiment of the Solo. Mendelssohn has been eminently successful in this cantabile style of choral which is subsequently worked in combination with writing, in which he has been much imitated, but the former. A passage of remarkable prominence is never surpassed; the employment of a prominent where the tenor voices alone have the first three notes figure continuously throughout the accompaniment, of the chief theme, to which the rest of the choir as in the present case, is also one of his peculiarities: respond in full harmony; the broad simplicity of such general characteristics make this Chorus one of which, and the consequent power, are eminently a class, its association with which cannot but enappropriate to the grandeur of the sentiment. Burst-hance its effect by the charming recollections it ing, as though with unrestrainable transport, through awakens, while its individual merits will always

new pang seems to rend the heart-a new impulse of impatience to prompt an exclamation uttered from the very depth of despair; the Watchman's reply, by the modification of minor into major, and by the acceleration of the motion of the accompaniment, bears now the purport of an increased concern in the woe that there is an increased sense of inability to console. Another repetition of the passage, transposed yet to a note higher, represents the sufferer become reckless from the long protraction of a torment which, like dropping water, accumulates power by its continuance. This repetition is interrupted by a passage of still more exciting intensity; and, his power of suffering exhausted,-his heart at the point of breaking, the afflicted one seems to be utterly prostrated by his weight of woe.

(11.) Solo and Chorus.-The night is departing, the day is approaching, therefore let us cast off the works of darkness, and let us gird on the armor of light. The day is approaching, the night is departing.

Now it is as though the profound darkness were rent, and a stream of Heaven's own radiance piercing the cleft, struck, electrically, life and faith into the withered heart, which was at once quickened with a new vitality by its genial warmth and brightness. Such is the effect of the soprano Solo that, quite unaccompanied, and in a key which is, however relative, totally unexpected, breaks in upon the unresolved dissonance with which the tenor ceases: Ρ

The night is de-part - ing, de part-ing,

This announces the chief Subject of the very grand Chorus, that, with the utmost possible force of voices and instruments, and with equal power of ideas, repeats, as with the tongue of an universe, the glorious truth revealed from Heaven. The triumphant jubilation that characterizes this magnificent piece, penetrates the feelings of every listener, and fills a vast throng with such enthusiastic gladness as springs from the consciousness of patriotic success or the act of poetic creation.

A felicitous illustration of the text occurs where the words "Let us gird on the armor of light!" are first introduced; and this inspiring summons

Let us gird on the armor, the armor of light; All who hear it must exult in the grand expression

of sincerity and reliance conveyed in the concluding passage, where the unaccompanied voices declaim with majestic breadth the opening words. 12. Choral.-Let all men praise the Lord, In worship lowly bending, On His most Holy Word,

Redeem'd from woe depending, &c. "Nun danket Alle Gott," is one of the most generally familiar of the very many Hymn tunes of the Lutheran Church which were adopted into it by its founder, and, with the verses to which they are sung, that also date from the time of the Reformation, have been in constant use as a portion of the Service, from that period to the present. We in England have not the advantage of those among whom these Chorals are habitually familiar, to be able instantly to associate them, as we should our National Anthem, or the Hundredth Psalm, with the words with which they are always connected, and to recognize in them, accordingly, the illustration of some particular sentiment wherever they may be performed, either separately, or, as in the present instance, in the course of an extensive composition. The theme is, to us, new as the treatment with which it is presented to us, and we hear and we judge both together, finding in them what interest we may, apart from all associations beyond the present work. Mendelssohn followed the example of the great Bach, which was founded on still earlier precedent, of incorporating these venerable tunes, as themes for elaboration in his works; and we may well understand, if we cannot experience, the peculiar interest they must excite, and the peculiar ideas they must suggest, when heard in such situations by those who know them with a life-long intimacy. The preceding piece announces the glad tidings of the Redemption; the present embodies, in phrases so well known that all the hearers to whom the work was originally addressed might join in them, the acknowledgments of a grateful world.

The first stanza is harmonized in simple counterpoint for the four voices, without any accompaniment, an effect so pure and so sympathetic, that it must always be the best possible rendering of a calm, devotional feeling. The second stanza is given as a Plain Song to all the voices in unison, and its broad simplicity supports the florid counterpoint of the orchestra, which here derives additional effect from the other stanza having been sung entirely without instruments. This latter method of treating the theme is especially ecclesiastical, it having been the ancient custom for the "Church Part," or Plain Song, to be sung by the body of the people, while the organ, or sometimes a select choir, accompanied them with such variety or complication of counterpoint as the skill or fancy of the composer prompted him to construct upon it.

13. Duet. My song shall be alway Thy mercy, singing Thy praise, Thou only God; my tongue ever speak the goodness Thou hast done unto me.

tions of grief than present suffering, from which the confidence of the declaration, "Yet called I," when the two voices are first brought together, and the gentle sweetness of the succeeding passage, "And He redeemed me," bring us back to the sense of tranquil security which is the prominent expression of the piece. The resumption of the opening melody by the soprano voice, while the tenor has a counter-melody, is one of the chief effects in the Duet.

of holding out those long notes in the bass, instead of the severe uniformity of rhythm and of movement just alluded to, he introduced trills and tremolos, he hurried and retarded the measure, disturbing thus by passionate accents the calmness of this sadness, and making thunders groan in this cloudless sky, which should be only sombered by the sun's departure. I must confess, I suffered cruelly, more even than I ever suffered hearing our unfortunate cantatrici em14. Chorus.-Ye nations, offer to the Lord glory and might. broider the grand monologue in Freyschütz; for to Ye monarchs, offer to the Lord glory and might. this torture was added the chagrin of seeing such an Thou heaven, offer to the Lord glory and might. artist indulge in a trick that ordinarily belongs only The whole earth, offer to the Lord glory and might. to mediocrity. But what was to be done about it? The misery past, the Redemption accomplished, Liszt was then like a child who, without complaining the general song of thanks and the personal feeling picks himself up from a fall which we pretend not to of gratitude openly and secretly offered at the Heav- perceive, and who would cry were you to offer him enly mercy-seat, the universe is called upon to glorify your hand. He has risen up proudly for several the Lord, from whom proceed alike the punishment years past especially it is no longer he who pursues dignity worthy of the theme; the grand declamatorying him; the rôles are exchanged. Let us return to and the pardon. This purpose is embodied with a success, but success which is out of breath in followour Sonata. Subject, of a class with some of the noblest of Han

del's

9b

Ye nations, of fer to the

Lord, of fer

O

to the Lord glory and might.

is so accompanied at its announcement, that the voices, being quite independent of the orchestra, give clear and emphatic enunciation to the comprehensive summons, which thus reaches alike the outer sense and the inward feeling of multitudinous nations, thunder-voiced and irresistible. The several vocal parts enter successively with the same Subject, but each with a different division of the text, implying that the four great embassies, to the Nations, the Monarchs, the Heavens, and the Earth, spread themselves through the infinity of space, circulating their message from sphere to sphere, and filling the unfathomed realms with the one grand utterance of the one great feeling.

15. O give thanks to the Lord, praise Him all ye people, and ever praise His Holy Name.

Sing ye the Lord, and ever praise His Holy Name.

The imitative form of the preceding movement now ceases. An orchestral passage, in which an extraordinary and most astonishing effect of breadth is attained by the progression of the parts in long scales of measured notes by contrary motion, introduces the ponderously massive harmony of the voices with prodigious majesty; the universe has reverberated with the awful summons, the universe has obeyed, and all created powers join in the Hymn of Praise.

We have then a clever fugue upon this Subject, the aim of which appears to be, artistically, to give solidity to the composition by the exercise of the profoundest scholastic resources,-dramatically, to give the effect of multitude, and so of vastness, as an appropriate rendering of the text.

The mind that

16. All that have life and breath, sing to the Lord. Finally, the initial phrase-that which, as a motto, first announced in a grand epitome the entire design of the work-now announces the design to be fulfilled, and declares the heart-expanding solemnity of offering praise to be accomplished. could produce was all-competent to approve the greatness of this noble masterpiece, and this repetition of his chief idea seems like his setting his seal upon the work, which stamped it as worthy of the theme, worthy of the art, and worthy of the composer. London, Jan. 1857.

G. A. MACFARREN.

stand threatening around; yet called I upon the Name of the Lord, and He redeemed me with watchful goodness.

The charming fluency of the melody, and the soft richness of the instrumentation, give a character of repose to the first sentence of this Duct, that shows the words as springing from a soul at peace with all around,- -a song of thankfulness poured forth in the calm spirit of contentment. The more troubled character assumed at the entry of the soprano voice on the words I wander," indicates rather recollec

One day, some seven or eight years ago, Liszt, in executing this Adagio before a little circle of which I made one, took it into his head to alter and denaturalize it, after the manner usually adopted then to win the applause of the fashionable public: instead

Recently one of those men of heart and soul, whom artists are so happy to encounter, had assembled a few friends; I was of the number. Liszt arrived in the evening, and,-finding a discussion going on about the value of a piece of Weber's, to which the public, whether because it was poorly executed, or from some other reason, had in a recent concert given but a cold reception,-seated himself at the piano to answer in his manner to the antagonists of Weber. The argument appeared unanswerable, and all were obliged to confess that a work of genius had been misappreciated. Just as he had finished, the lamp which lighted the apartment appeared on the point of going out: one of the company went to revive it.

-Do no such thing, said I; if he will play the Adagio of Beethoven in C sharp minor, this twilight will not be amiss.

-With all my heart, said Liszt; but extinguish the light entirely, cover up the fire, let the darkness be complete.

Then, in the midst of those deep shades, after a moment for collecting our thoughts, the noble elegy, the same which he had formerly so strangely disfigured, rose in its sublime simplicity; not a note, not an accent were added to the notes and accents of the author. It was the shade of Beethoven, evoked by the virtuoso, whose grand voice we were hearing. Each of us shuddered in silence, and after the last chord we were silent still. .... we wept.

"WHAT DOES IT MEAN?" is often asked of a fine piece of music without words. The truth is, the meaning of music lies hidden in those deeper and more mysterious regions of the human soul's every day experience, which it is as vain to ignore as it is impossible to render into the distinct tones of thought. Music is deeper than speech, and makes its appeal to that within us that is deeper than thoughts of the understanding. Music expresses that part of our best and deeper consciousness, which needs precisely such a fluid, sympathetic language as its tones alone afford. Music begins where words leave off; by it our inmost, spiritual natures commune with each other. Hence the loftiest poetry, the most inspired and subtle charm of conversation, in short that magical something that distinguishes the utterances of genius in its high hour, in whatsoever form, is an approximation to music and sets the finest chords to vibrating within us in something the same way. The effect of music could hardly be described more accurately than in the very terms in which the higher ranges of Coleridge's conversation are described by his nephew, in the preface to the "Table Talk." For example:

I have seen him at times when you could not incarnate him, when he shook aside your petty questions or doubts, and burst with some impatience through the obstacles of common conversation. Then, escaped from the flesh, he would soar upwards into an atmosphere almost too rare to breathe, but which seemed proper to him, and there he would float at ease. Like enough, what Coleridge then said, his subtlest listener

would not understand as a man understands a newssuch a listener there would steal an upon paper; but influence, and an impression, and a sympathy; there would be a gradual attempering of his body and spirit, till his total being vibrated with one pulse alone, and thought became merged in contemplation ;

And so, his senses gradually wrapt

In a half sleep, he'd dream of better worlds,
And dreaming hear thee still, O singing lark,
That sangest like an angel in the clouds !